


He's Still Juicy

by TaleasOldasTimeandSpace



Series: Fairy Tales and Hokum [5]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, MurderVision brotp, Rufus is so done, The Mummy AU, WE GOT A LIVE ONE FOLKS, all hail the Nerd Queen, all hail the garbage king, and she's too lazy to look up transcripts, garcy, it will not be his last, nO hArM eVeR cAmE fRoM rEaDiNg A bOoK, she trusts that you nerds have this thing memorized like she does anyway, so don't expect any ancient Egyptian in this fic, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the afterlife, sorry Anthony, the Eye of Jiya strikes again, the Murder Ent yells at his first mummy, the mummy is awake and he is not happy, unlike Lucy the author can neither read nor wright ancient Egyptian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace/pseuds/TaleasOldasTimeandSpace
Summary: IT'S ALIIIIIIIVE





	He's Still Juicy

The sarcophagus hit the wall, a booming  _ thud _ echoing through the room as dust rained from the ceiling.  Lucy stepped back, stretching her back with a crack.  She was completely aware that Garcia had done most of the work getting it upright, but she and Jiya had helped, and that thing was  _ heavy. _  She attempted to work out a few more kinks as she pulled the puzzle-box from Jiya’s pack.  Opening it, she fit it into the puzzle-box-shaped slot on the sarcophagus and shot Garcia a smug smile.  ‘See?  I told you it would work.’

He laughed.  ‘I never doubted you.  But what made you think of it?’

‘You did, actually.  When you offered to  _ blow it up _ with the dynamite you carry around  _ in your pocket _ like an absolute dingbat.’

His tongue darted across his lips as he grinned at her.  ‘Your gift for language never ceases to impress me, Lucy,’ he said, leaning an arm against the sarcophagus.  ‘And one of these days, you’re going to be grateful I keep dynamite handy.’

Jiya cleared her throat.  ‘I, for one, would be grateful if you two could stop flirting for five seconds so we can get this sarcophagus open.’

Garcia’s grin, impossibly, got wider.  Lucy could feel her face burn and wondered wildly if she could blame it on too much sun, but no.  She’d spent most of the last two days underground, and Jiya and Garcia both knew it.  ‘ANYWAY.  You said we couldn’t get in without a key, and I remembered back on the boat, the man with the hook was looking for a key.  I didn’t realize what he meant then, but this morning it finally clicked, and, well.’  She waved at the sarcophagus. ‘Here we are.’

‘Here we are, indeed.’  Garcia inclined his head.  ‘Please, do the honours.’

Lucy took a deep breath, feeling like she'd swallowed a scarab beetle.  Taking hold of the key, she gave it a firm twist.  The mechanism, after millennia of disuse, refused to move at first.  Finally there was an indignant shriek of ancient gears, and the lid fell forward.

So did the mummy.

For a wild moment, Lucy was sure that it was alive and about to attack her.  She let out a surprised yelp as Garcia caught her around the waist and pulled her against his chest and out of the way.  A gun appeared in his hand, and she wasn't sure if it was instinct or a real intent to fight off a mummy.  Knowing Garcia, it was probably both.

Jiya threw herself against the wall, then sagged to the floor, giggling hysterically.  ‘We  _ really  _ should have expected that,’ she gasped.

‘I  _ hate _ it when these things do that,’ Lucy spat.

‘This has happened to you before?’  Garcia’s breath fanned the hair by her ear, and she sternly told the goosebumps that shivered across her skin to knock it off.  She certainly hadn't asked for  _ their _ opinion.

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalance.  ‘You'd be surprised.’

She felt more than heard him hum thoughtfully, his chest rumbling against her back.  ‘And tell me, is he, uh,  _ supposed _ to look like that?’

Lucy dragged her wayward attention from Garcia and directed it firmly toward the mummy, where it belonged.  And frowned, as she took in what she was seeing.  ‘No, actually.  The level of decay is all wrong.’  She stepped closer, distantly registering Garcia's arm falling away.  The eye sockets were long empty, but she stared into them as if they still held the secrets of the mummy's soul.  She didn’t see any secrets, though.  All she saw was the inside of his skull.  ‘The priests would remove the organs—except for the heart—and cover the body in natron salt to remove moisture, but he looks like they just tossed him in his sarcophagus and called it good.  But even if they had, he shouldn’t look like this, not after three thousand years.  He’s still, still…’

‘Juicy,’ Jiya supplied, poking his cheek.  She wiped her finger on her skirt with a grimace.

‘Exactly.’  Lucy stepped back, taking in the whole mummy and his sarcophagus.  ‘And where are the wrappings?  He shouldn’t be exposed like this.  It’s all wrong!’  Her eyes snagged on the lid and she dropped to her knees beside it.  ‘It’s  _ wrong _ …’

‘Lucy, what is it?’  Garcia’s warm hand on her shoulder shocked her out of the ice flooding her veins as she stared at the lid.

‘These marks,’ she said, tracing her hand over the grooves carved into the stone.  ‘They were made by fingernails.’

She glanced up at him, seeing the comprehension dawn on his face.  ‘They buried him alive,’ he said.

Jiya let out a low whistle, glancing between the claw marks and the mummy.  ‘What did this guy _ do?’ _

Garcia nudged Lucy.  ‘Are your okay?’

She smiled at him, though it felt more like a painful grimace.  ‘I'm fine, really.  I mean, he's been dead for millennia.  There's nothing I can do for him.’

‘Not without a time machine, anyway,’ Jiya interjected helpfully.

Lucy’s smile turned genuine, and she rolled her eyes at her sister.  ‘Thank you, H.G. Wells.  I’m sorry, I’m being—’

Jiya glared at her.  ‘Don’t you dare say you’re being silly.  I will break one of Karl’s vodka bottles over your head, and that would be a tragic waste of vodka.’

Lucy stuck her tongue out.  ‘As if you would use a full bottle.  Now who's being silly?’

Garcia rubbed his chin.  ‘Can you imagine if we _ did _ have a time machine, though?  We could see the city when it was new.  Or go forward and see what the future's like.’

Lucy caught his eye.   _ Or go back and save the people we love, _ she thought.  He inclined his head solemnly, as if she’d spoken aloud.

‘Yeah, go to the past and get executed for trespassing a sacred space, or go forward and get eaten by Morlocks.’  Jiya crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels.  ‘I think I'll stay right here, thanks.  At least no one's trying to kill me at the moment.  And don't think I haven't noticed we're actively ignoring the whole “leave or die” warning we got yesterday.’

‘Personally, I'm surprised our friend with the sword actually thought that would work,’ Garcia said mildly.

‘Maybe it's his youthful optimism,’ Lucy suggested.  ‘What are we going to do when they come back?’  The question had been picking at the back of her mind all day.

‘Karl and Stiv _did_ ask if we'd been interested in joining forces at night, posting watches and that sort of thing,’ Garcia said.  ‘I told them I'm willing, but I needed to check with you.  This is your expedition, after all.’

Lucy nodded.  ‘Probably wise.  What do you think?’ she asked Jiya.

Jiya shrugged.  ‘Fine with me.  We can use all the firepower we can get, and it's _ just _ possible they have more guns than you.’

‘Hey, even I can only shoot two guns at a time.’

Jiya gasped theatrically.  ‘Wow, Flynn, you just might be human after all.’

_ ‘Lies,’ _ he hissed, but his grin undermined any menace he might have projected.

Jiya laughed, shaking her head.  ‘You're an idiot,’ she said affectionately.

‘He really is.’  Lucy smiled at him.  ‘But he's our idiot.’

* * *

 

Garcia was a light sleeper, even when he wasn't expecting an imminent attack from paranoid horsemen who seemed to have appointed themselves the guardians of a long-deserted city.  It wasn’t the sound of hoofbeats that woke him, though.  It was Lucy, slipping out of her bedroll and making her way down to the Americans’ camp.  He twisted to watch as she crept to  Neville’s tent and pulled something out of the sleeping man’s arms.  When she turned to come back to their camp, he quickly lay back down and shut his eyes.  He could hear her rustling in Jiya’s pack, then the click of the puzzle box.

‘That’s called stealing, you know,’ he said, eyes still closed.

There was a pause, the only sound a rustle as Jiya turned in her sleep.  Then, ‘According to you and Jiya, it’s called borrowing.’

‘Fair point.’  He sat up.  Lucy was hunched over a heavy book made of what looked like dark metal.  There was a slot similar to the one on the sarcophagus, and she fit the key into it and twisted with practiced ease.  Apparently unlocking one mummy case made her an expert in opening ancient locks.  The latches holding the book closed popped open, and a suspiciously-timed wind sighed through the city.  ‘That’s getting really old,’ he muttered.  Grabbing the Remington, he scooted over to Lucy.  ‘If that’s the book of Amun Ra, I have to tell you I’m severely disappointed.  I thought it was supposed to be made out of gold.’

‘It  _ is _ made out of gold.’  She heaved the cover open, letting her fingers trace over the hieroglyphs.  ‘I think this might be the Book of the Dead.’

‘The Book of the Dead?’  Garcia was glad he was already sitting or he probably would have fallen over.  ‘The one that can bring the dead back to life?  I thought that was a myth.’

She shot him a look over her shoulder.  ‘So’s Hamunaptra, yet,’ she waved across the city, ‘here we are.’

He was dimly aware that this was his cue for a smirk and a snarky comeback, but all his focus was locked on the book.  The book that had drawn him across the desert all though years ago, the book he had nearly died trying to find.

The book that was supposed to bring Lorena and Iris back.

He reached out, trailing a finger along the edge of the black page.

‘Garcia?’  Lucy’s voice pulled him out of his stupor, and he let his hand fall.  ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine.’  He cleared his throat.  ‘So what’s it say?’ he asked, his voice only a little raspy.

She raised an eyebrow.  ‘Aren’t you supposed to tell me not to mess around with something called the Book of the Dead?’

He bumped her shoulder with his own.  ‘No harm ever came from reading a book, right?  Where’s your sense of curiosity?’

She snorted.  ‘You’re a bad influence, Garcia Flynn.’

‘Hey, I’m not the one that stole—’

‘Borrowed!’

‘—a priceless artifact from our esteemed colleague.’  He shook his head at her.  ‘I’m shocked at this degenerate behaviour, Dr. Preston,’ he continued primly.  ‘What  _ would  _ the Bembridge Scholars say?’

She let out an adorable little snorting giggle, then slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced at Jiya.  Her sister frowned and turned over again, but didn't wake.  ‘They’d say it’s Neville,’ she whispered, ‘and that the horrid little weasel deserves it.’

‘I’m glad I’m on your side.  So c’mon, Doctor.  What’s it say?’

She cleared her throat and began reading, translating from the ancient Egyptian as she went.  He was so caught up in the cadence of her voice as she read that he barely noticed the wind picking up.  As she reached the end of what sounded like an incantation, Jiya sat straight up.

‘Jiya?’  Lucy shut the book, incantation forgotten.  ‘Are you okay?’

Jiya turned towards them.  Her eyes were rolled back so only the whites showed, and she was trembling.  _  ‘You must not read from the book,’ _ she intoned, her voice echoing oddly.  As if a string had been holding her up and was suddenly cut, she collapsed.  Garcia dove forward, catching her before she could hit her head.  She lay unresponsive in his arms, twitching.

_ ‘Jiya!’   _ Lucy tossed the book aside and scrambled after him, catching her sister's hand and checking her pulse.  ‘Jiya, can you hear me?  Jiya!’

‘Has this ever happened before?’

Lucy shook her head rapidly, her entire focus on her sister’s face.  ‘Never. What do we do?’ she asked desperately.

Garcia had no experience with  seizures.  He opened his mouth to say as much, but before he could, Jiya’s spasms stopped and her eyes fluttered opened.  ‘Hey,’ he said softly.  ‘You scared us.’

Jiya blinked at him, frowning.  ‘Flynn?  What…  What's going on?’

‘You had a fit.’   Lucy smoothed Jiya's hair out of her face.  ‘Do you remember what happened?’

‘No?  I was having a weird dream about our mummy coming to life and taking over the world and something about the ten plagues of Egypt, and then I woke up and Flynn was practically nose-to-nose with me.  Which, no offense Flynn, is  _ not _ something I want to wake up to.  Save it for Lucy.’

Garcia raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lucy.  ‘I think she’s feeling better.  I’ll take it under advisement, Jiya, but people who collapse after spouting cryptic messages don’t get to quibble about how they wake up.  Now,’ he helped her sit up, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘Okay, I think.’  Jiya rubbed a hand over her face.  ‘I mean, I’ve got a buzzing in my ears, but hopefully that will go away soon.’

Now that she mentioned it, Garcia realized he could hear buzzing as well.  In fact, he’d been hearing it since shortly after Lucy stopped reading.  He frowned, looking towards the desert.

‘What did you mean, cryptic messages?’  He didn't respond, still focused on the desert.  There was a dark cloud low on the horizon, and it was getting closer.  Jiya huffed behind him.  ‘Lucy, what does he mean, cryptic messages?’

Lucy started to explain, but he tuned her out as he tried to figure out what was bothering him about the buzzing.  As the cloud got closer, he could see that it was made up of millions of tiny shapes.

It was a cloud of locusts.

He stood abruptly.  ‘Get inside.’

‘Flynn?’

‘Garcia, what—’

_ ‘We need to get inside!’ _  He pulled Lucy to her feet, then did the same for Jiya.  ‘C’mon, we gotta go!’  With a hand on each of their shoulders, he steered them towards the nearest building.  ‘That’s a swarm of locust!’

They fell through the door just as the swarm reached the city.  Garcia turned to slam it shut, squashing the bugs unfortunate enough to be at the front of the swarm as he did.

‘That was weirdly biblical,’ Jiya said when she’d caught her breath. 

Lucy’s head snapped around.  ‘You mentioned the plagues of Egypt before.  That can’t be a coincidence.’

‘So what?’  Jiya shrugged.  ‘Maybe they’re migrating.’

‘Yes, but—’

Whatever Lucy was going to say was cut off by a rumble.  The tunnel shuddered and a mound of dirt formed on the floor in front of them.  It grew about a foot high before a fountain of scarabs burst from the top and surged towards them.

‘Time to run again!’  Garcia yelled, blasting at the beetles with the Remington.  It did nothing to stop them, but it did make him feel a little better. He swore he could feel the nasty bugs nipping at his heels as he ran down the tunnel, following Lucy and Jiya deeper into the city.  His mind flashed uneasily to the stories Lucy had been telling them about scarabs.  She had a theory, shared in gruesome detail, that the mummy had been locked in his sarcophagus with a bucketful.  It couldn’t be a pleasant way to die, and he had no desire to experience it firsthand.

The tunnel opened up into another cavern.  A wide ramp spiraled down into the darkness, a steep drop on either side.  Ledges jutted out along the ramp at irregular intervals.  Lucy threw herself to a small alcove in the cavern wall, and, well, _ that _ was a good idea.  Garcia caught Jiya around the waist and jumped with her to the nearest outcropping.  Their feet barely cleared the ramp before the swarm swept past.  Jiya leaned against him as she caught her breath, and he released his own in a long sigh.  If they hadn’t got out of the way…

Over the dull roar of the scarabs—it was amazing how _ loud _ a few million flesh-eating bugs could be—he could hear shouts and screams from the Americans.  They needed to regroup, figure out what the _ heck _ was going on, but they couldn't do that while cornered by carnivorous beetles.

After a short eternity, the swarm passed, and he helped Jiya back across the chasm.  _'_ _ That _ is something I never want to experience again,’ he said, feeding new cartridges into the Remington.  ‘And I thought the horsemen were bad.  Everyone okay?’

‘I’m fine, but Flynn… Where's Lucy?’

* * *

 

Hamunaptra, Lucy decided, was rapidly losing its charm.  Between improperly prepared mummies, territorial desert warriors, surprise bug attacks, and having to put up with Jake Neville’s utter lack of any redeeming qualities on a daily basis, she was about ready to chuck it all and go back to the museum.  At least there nothing was trying to kill her.

And yes, maybe it wasn't fair to blame Neville on Hamunaptra, but she feeling fair.  She'd narrowly avoided being _ eaten _ by _ bugs _ , only to fall through some kind of secret door on the wall.

The museum was blessedly free of secret passageways.

At least she'd lost the scarabs.  And everyone else.  And herself.

She glanced around, trying to get her bearings, and her eyes snagged on a tall, skinny figure with his back to her.  His fringe of white hair was a dead giveaway, and she sagged with relief.

‘Mr. Bruhl,’ she sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder.  ‘I’m so glad to see you.  I got separated from everyone, and I was starting to get worried.  Do you—’

Bruhl turned around.  Lucy screamed.

There were gaping, bloody cavities where his eyes should be.  Lucy stumbled back, hitting the rough stone of the corridor wall.  Bruhl took an unsteady step towards her and collapsed in a heap on the floor.  ‘He took my eyes,’ he sobbed, his voice weirdly garbled.

‘Who?  Who did this to you?’

He didn’t seem to hear.  ‘He took my tongue!’

Well, that explained his voice.  She started towards him.  ‘What can I do?  Who—’ A movement in the shadows caught her eye, and she turned.  And screamed again.

A mummy— _ their _ mummy, their  _ dead _ mummy—stalked toward her out of the darkness.  Horribly, impossibly, he was alive, his dessicated muscles moving over brittle bones as he came toward her.  Everything about him was withered and decaying.  Everything except his perfect, fresh eyes.

Bruhl’s eyes.

Her back hit the wall again.  The mummy leaned close, far too close, studying her with his stolen eyes.

‘Jessica?’

* * *

 

Garcia slapped the wall where Lucy had disappeared in frustration.  There had to be a hidden door or  _ something, _ but he couldn’t get it open again.  The idea of her, alone in those tunnels with all the  _ weirdness _ going on…

He was going to shoot his way through the wall soon.

‘This isn’t working, Flynn!’

‘Don’t you think I  _ know _ that?’ he snapped.  He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.  ‘I’m sorry, Jiya, I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you.  I just—’

She patted his arm.  ‘I’m worried about her too.’

Yelling and a growing roar heralded the return of the scarabs, close on the heels of what was left of the American contingent.  Garcia threw himself backwards, and the wall behind them slid open.  He landed hard on his back, grunting when Jiya landed on top of him.   _ ‘Oof _ .  You’re a lot more solid than you look.’

‘I’ll take that as a complement.’  She pushed off of him and held out a hand, pulling him to his feet.

‘It was meant to be.’  He slung the Remington off his shoulder and took stock of their surroundings.  They seemed to be in a small niche off of one of the tunnels.  Nudging Jiya behind him, he poked his head around the corner.   _ ‘Lucy!’ _  In a few long strides he was by her side, eyes darting over her as he checked for injuries.  ‘Are you all right? I—Jiya— _ we _ were worried.’

Lucy grabbed his arm without looking at him.  ‘I’m fine,’ she said.  Her death grip and the tremor in her voice belied her words.

He followed her gaze.  ‘What— _ whoa!’ _

‘Uh-huh.’  Her voice was higher than normal and slightly thready, but he couldn’t blame her.

Considering the mummy.

The walking corpse look from him to Lucy to Lucy’s hands on his arm and back.  His face twisted and he roared, deep and screeching and full of rage. Garcia did the only logical thing.  He yelled back.

Then he blasted the mummy in the head with his shotgun.

‘Let’s go!’  He pushed Lucy ahead of him, checking to make sure Jiya was following.

‘Right behind you,’ she said, pausing to put two rounds into the mummy from the 1911 he only just realized she’d never returned after last night’s attack.  Probably just as well.

‘Well that's just _ great _ .  Absolutely wonderful.’  Jiya's voice was outraged and borderline hysterical, but he didn’t blame her.  She'd _ earned _ a little hysteria.  They all had.  ‘What's next, Morlocks?’

Lucy choked out a breathless laugh.  ‘Morlocks aren't real, Jiya.’

‘Neither are mummies, yet here we are.’

They didn’t stop running until they reached the surface, catching up with the Americans in one of the many twisting corridors.  They probably would have kept running all the way back to Cairo, but they were met with a wall of guns as soon as they got outside.  Apparently their friends from the night before hadn’t forgotten to return after all.

He held up his hands, very deliberately not going for his gun.  ‘I would very much like for things to stop trying to kill me.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Lucy muttered.  She slumped against his side, and he put an arm around her shoulders.  

‘I told you!’  The leader of the raiders pushed his way to the front.  ‘Leave or die, I said, and did you listen?’

‘Obviously not,’ Jiya said under her breath.

‘Now you've released the creature!’ he continued, shooting a glare at Jiya.  ‘Hope you're looking forward to the end of the world, because it's here!’

Garcia rolled his eyes.  ‘Relax, captain sunshine.  I got him.’

The other man whipped out one of his scimitars, placing the tip just under Garcia's chin.  ‘Listen, you trigger-happy tree.  No mortal weapon can kill that thing.  At best you've slowed it down, at worst you've made it angry.  If you care at all for your friends,’ he glanced at Lucy and Jiya, his gaze lingering on the latter, ‘you'll get as far away as possible as fast as you can.  Before you end up like him.’  At his signal, his men pushed forward a bent figure, only just recognizable as Bruhl. 

Noah caught him before he could hit the ground.  ‘What did you _ do _ to him?’ he demanded.

_ ‘We _ didn't do anything except save him before the creature finished killing him.  You're welcome.’  He sheathed his scimitar and stalked to his horse.  ‘Maybe this time you'll listen—leave or die.’

‘Nobody’s going to die.’  Garcia held up the Remington.  ‘I told you, I stopped him.’

‘You didn't stop anything, you just delayed the inevitable.’  At his signal, the horsemen rode into the darkness.

‘I don’t think he likes me,’ Garcia observed.

Lucy let her head drop against his chest, as if staying upright was more energy than it was worth.  ‘You do tend to have that effect.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> So, show of hands... Who saw this coming? Wyatt as the mummy, I mean. Obviously you knew the broad strokes of what was coming, because you've seen this movie a gazillion times, just like I have. I swear, I'm not (just) doing this because of season 2, I actually have a method (and semi-tragic backstory) to my madness. Fun fact: Jessica is derived from the Hebrew name Iskah/Jeska, which works for the Mummy timeline. I deliberately used the modern spelling so that it would be recognizable. Wyatt's a modern name, so I'm going to have to fake it with him.
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://taleasoldastime-andspace.tumblr.com/ask)!


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